


Like Water

by melcyeh



Category: Asoiaf - Fandom, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Crime AU, Kidnapping, M/M, im sorry people, minor mentions of throbb, this fic is gross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3108464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melcyeh/pseuds/melcyeh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the burning of the seat of Balon Greyjoy and the murder of his house. Theon is the sole survivor of the Greyjoy family. One last visit to the home he never came to know can do no harm...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty short and I'm sure its disorganised. My first time writing a fic. It was also without planning and I was really just making it up as I went along. First chapter is probably very boring. I love this ship. I wanted to contribute something to the little fandom surrounding this ship so here it is. Rating will go up
> 
> I've added a bit to chapter 2.

Away from the noise of the city and towards the noise of the sea. Theon was soon off the train and walking towards his house. The only house left in tact by the Lannisters after their raids. They controlled so much of the city and they wanted to make their mark. Once large buildings had been reduced to piles of rubble by the roadside. Theon had to step around it. Dark smoke from bombed out neighbourhoods was swept into the skies by the brewing storm above. He was glad that was all he had to step around.

He was glad not to see any bodies but still found himself curious as to who had taken them. He hated this street, he had always hated it. Many of the worst of his memories had occurred here. Most of the best had too. Asha was gone, she would have made contact with him if she was still alive. So she must be among all the other charred body parts inside the remains of these houses. He tried not to think of her. Coming here had been on his mind since he'd heard about it. Plastered all over the news, fucking propaganda all of it. Saying that his family had been making bombs here. Everything awful they could think of, he knew his had to be that Lannister bitches doing. Coming up with these stories, drugs, terrorism, human trafficking. All of these had been pinned on the Greyjoy family when they were found in the city. Theon knew that the proud Greyjoy house did not fight like that. His sister would not be so sly. He knew his father wouldn't either. His pride was a thing to be feared.

The sky was getting darker still. There was a wind so strong Theon struggled to stay standing. He was nearing the house now. The even the cars were burned out, how did they explain that away? All of the cars where still parks where they would have been before, he spotted Asha's near the largest house at the end of the road. He saw the huge van she drove and the golden kraken emblazoned on the side. Hers remained in tact. The rest had stopped burning by now but the smell of it was still thick in Theons nose, despite the wind and the time that had passed. His true home and his true family. Burned up. He had seen Asha on the news. The bullshit the crown passes off as news anyway. Slandering the Greyjoy name. Calling Asha an enemy to the city, his father depicted as a power hungry snake. All this control and they still wanted more.

So they did this, killed them all. Much of the Greyjoys territory had been lost but then they had to take it one step further and eradicate them all. All but Theon. If he didn't visit this place he would have no peace with this city and then he could not leave. He would be hunted down by the Lannisters lapdogs if he didn't flee soon. Theon wondered if they thought it necessary to kill the last Greyjoy. Nearing the door now, he only now realised how afraid he was. This house meant so many different things to him. His brothers, all they had done. All they fought for. Only for it to be shattered by fucking Tywin Lannister. Theon braved the front door and made it into the lobby. He was hit with a cloying sickly smell all at once. Lifting his shirt he covered his nose and blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. He continued through the house. Theon tried to be quiet so as not to disturb the memories here. This marble floor reflecting his own dark shadow back at him did not help with Theons fear. His eyes flickered around. Paintings, animal pelts and even mounted stag heads along the walls. Their eyeless sockets staring down at him. All along this cold uninviting hallway. The family he never truly knew and now never would.

Slowly he walked thorough this empty home, the only sound being his own footsteps. He should have dressed more warmly, it was so cold. The windows were open, why were they windows open? It did nothing to rid this place of the smell. He could hear the strong winds whistling through the house, like ghosts calling out to him. He hoped he wouldn't find his sister's body. Maybe he shouldn't have come here, what did he hope to find? Robb was right to try to make his stay away. In the night he left. Looking over the city in the stark penthouse he dressed himself and left with only a look at Robb's sleeping face. He was still asleep on the couch after drinking too much. Theon had drank too but not for enjoyment for once, but with hopes of distracting himself. Robb had known how much Theon thought about Asha.

He had done well up to now, keeping Theon distracted. Tonight he had slipped though and in some small way Theon felt guilty for leaving then. He knew Robb wanted him isolated from the rest of the world. He thought it would be safer. After all that had happened. Ned Starks imprisonment and subsequent lethal injection. Sansa and Arya's disappearance. His mother being so far away still. Robb was still soft in some ways and Theon knew it. They both did. Both of them were weaker than they feigned to be. Now he had to decide if he could go back to him and hope Robb would forgive him and offer him shelter again. He continued further into the house, he would go upstairs first. As he climbed the long staircase to the second floor he thought of what he would do if he didn't go back to Robb. If he went back and was refused, would he hand him over to the Lannisters?

He needs all the help he can get, but the only son of a now dead house would be of little use. If didn't have the means to get out of the city on his own. He would have to ask Robb. He could at least grant him that. Already he was thinking as though this had happened. Robb might now abandon him after all he had done. Looking upwards he could see a glorious chandelier in the room ahead of the stairs. When he reached the top he found himself speechless. A balcony straight ahead was aglow with so many lights and it was so soft, so carefully arranged. Pieces of fabric were hung from the ceiling and all of them blew in in the wind from the stone roof overlooking the old docks. He felt for his handgun at his waist before continuing forward. Walking out onto the balcony he could hear the whistling winds even stronger now. Still so many boats say near the docks, their owners absent. These lights were so out of place here. Glowing with warmth against the colourless sky all of it so violent and unforgiving. In contrast these fabrics were made of rich silks and heavy velvets. Reds and golds swirling around, Theon he found himself distracted again. The smell coming from inside was so strong suddenly. He turned and found his vision black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should have mentiond that Ramsay is eighteen in this. Theon is like twenty two. It'll come up at some point. I'm aiming to make this like a kind of origin story for Ramsay's evil. Theon will be his first ever real live human to play with!
> 
> Also I've changed the ending to this chapter.

Ramsay looked up from his work. He heard someone closing the front door of the house. He left his tools down at his workstation and began up the basment stairs, removing his gloves along the way. He stopped half way and watched the shadows of feet go past the door. He cracked it open once he heard the footsteps going upstairs. He pulled his facemask down from over his nose once he was in the hallway. He could still smell them in here.

Ramsay kept a tight grip on the scalpel he had been using downstairs. Ready to strike out if need be. The rubber of his apron made noise as he walked but the other ocupant of the house seemed to take no notice of it. Ramsay could see the back of him, he was dressed in a dark suit. The lines from his shoulders and his waist sharp and straight. He could make out touseled blond hair and little else.</

The man turned to look down the flight of stairs and Ramsay stepped behind a pillar. After a moment he heard the man walking away. Ramsay crept behind him, taking note of the pistol at his hip. Who the fuck was this? His father never warned him of anyone else being here. It wasn't like Ramsay couldn't defend himself, he blew up half the goddamn houses in the attack. Anyway there wasn't much Ramsay wouldn't do. That's why he'd come here, burning them in their homes wasn't quite enough. He was theatrical to a fault.

His boots made tiny sqeaking sounds which were drowned out by the howling winds outside. Ramsay sped up, prepared to slit the mans throat where he stood. Then a thought popped into his head, wouldn't a living victim be an even better omen to leave for their enimies? In truth Ramsay tired of dealing with cold charred bodies and hungered for some companionship. He slipped the knife into his pocket. This would be a golden opportunity for Ramsay to hone his skills and it would surely give his father more reason to notice him. It was decided, Ramsay would pin him up here with the other bodies. Begging for his life, not a scrap of skin left on his body.

As that blond head turned back from the doors Ramsay lifted his fist to strike him. The man went down ungracefully. Falling at Ramsay's feet. He was a pretty thing with large eyes, he leaned down to see how they looked, they were clear and pale.

Ramsay was going to enjoy this.

First Ramsay took that tiny gun from its holster at the mans waist. Then he hauled his limp body over his shoulder and began what was sure to be an arduous journey outside. He cursed the man for being so goddamn heavy. His long legs trailed along the floor as Ramsay attempted to drag him upstairs. He knew just where to take him. The third floor contained a medical room. He gave Balon Greyjoy some credit, he was prepared for anything. Well, mostly anything. He noticed a gurney up there, upon his initial exploration of the mansion. He had no doubt there'd be some tools there too, tools which Ramsay might take to using on the young man currently weighing down his shoulders. This was a golden opportunity, his father wouldn't care about some  _extra attention_ being paid to some Greyjoy grunt. He grimaced but kept going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody is reading this I'm sorry it's so short and that I'm updating sporadically.


	3. Chapter 3

It was dark behind Theon's eyelids. He was laying on something soft. He opened his eyes, looking to his right he saw the distant lights of the train station out of a window and not much else. His vision was swimming. He tried lifting his hands to no success. He looked down at his hands, they were strapped at his sides. His feet, he found were immobile too. He tried his best not to panic, he would be tough. Whoever they were probably just wanted to know whoever _he_ was. He knew what getting that information might entail. He could not risk being found. Was he still in his father's house? He knew there was a third floor but he had never made it up there...

He heard movement in the next room. It sounded like someone moving furniture around. He strained his ears to listen, it had stopped. 

Then he heard it, someone wearing heavy boots was trying their best to approach his room quietly. He let out the quietest of gasps and closed his eyes again, trying to appear as though he was still asleep. Moments later the door to his right creaked open. Theon tried not to move. After a few moments whoever was looking in on him closed the door again. He breathed out a quiet sigh of relief and tentatively peeked out through his eyelashes. Whoever had knocked him unconscious was sitting at the window, their head and shoulders a silhouette against the barest moonlight. Again Theon struggled not to react, keeping his breathing shallow and slow.

He heard the flick of a lighter and saw the flame turn the end of a cigarette into ember. The person in the room with him blew out a thin trail of smoke to the ceiling. Theon inhaled the familiar scent unable to avoid it in the small room. They sat for a few minutes, Theon breathing in their smoke. Then they stood, it looked like a man. Theon supposed he might be relieved that this man would be leaving. Whoever it was stepped out, letting the door slam shut behind him. 

Theon heard their footsteps becoming distant. A few moments later he came back and appeared to prop open the door. Theon resolved to wait them out, even if it meant laying in this bed for days. Maybe he would think he has lapsed into a coma. 

Suddenly he felt the bed jerk forward. His  _bed_ was turned and lead out the door. He closed his eyes fully, all he could see was the ceiling. He passed over two doorways before he stopped. Then, those footsteps retreated downstairs.

After a few minutes had passed he began looking around. He could make out the night sky to his left and to his right. It seemed he was near the back of the house. He couldn't work out what this room might be. He squirmed on the bed, trying to get free but it was no use. His wrists were bound too tightly to allow for much movement. He fell back to the bed, dispirited.

 

 

 

 


End file.
